


you don't expect a sunset to admire you back

by persephoneggsy



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Doctor Who, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Rhys, Rhys is Handsome Jack's Personal Assistant, Rhys is a Big Dumb, oblivious Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: Rhys is captured by bandits looking to get the jump on Handsome Jack, who rumors say is rather fond of his personal assistant. Rhys lets them know exactly how stupid their plan is.Unfortunately for Rhys, Jack listens in.





	you don't expect a sunset to admire you back

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two hours y'all
> 
> Basically, if any of you have watched Doctor Who, there's this episode with River Song (the Doctor's Wife) and some baddies are threatening her in the hopes that the Doctor will show up, and she gives them an epic dressing-down of why she's positive that will NOT happen... And of course, it happens, because the Doctor was there the whole time and he loves her lmao. The episode is 'The Husbands of River Song' and it still makes me cry every time ;w;
> 
> anyway I rewatched it recently and my dumbass went "... but rhack tho" and here we are
> 
> Title is also from the DW episode:  
> "When you love the Doctor, it's like loving the stars themselves! You don't expect a sunset to admire you back!" - River Song

* * *

 

 _Well,_ Rhys thinks, oddly annoyed when he should probably be terrified, _it’s been nice living. Vaughn, my sock collection is left to you._

Above him, one of the bandits – a distinctly disgusting one, because _of course_ Rhys would get manhandled by the one still drenched in splattered human remains– makes a sucking sound with his teeth, peering down at Rhys with eyes he can only barely make out through the slits in his grotesque mask.

“I don’t get the appeal,” he says, voice shrill.

His two companions are standing around the room, and one turns to reply. He’s a rotund one, and he’s covered in rusty spikes from his shoulders down to his knees. “Appeal of what?”

“This guy,” Disgusting says, gesturing to Rhys, who still sits on the floor, flesh hand bound to his ankles – his cybernetic arm had been oh-so-delicately ripped from its socket, and was now probably being pawned off somewhere else on this godforsaken planet. Why did Rhys agree to come down here again?

Oh, right. Because Handsome Jack had batted his eyelashes, gotten in Rhys’s personal space, and asked him to, in the same low tone of voice any normal person would use to ask someone to come to bed with them.

And Rhys, the chump that he is, had fallen for it yet again.

In his defense, trips to Pandora are usually short – he never spends more than a few hours on the surface, and when he _is_ down here, he spends most of his time either in secure military bases, or surveying the progress in Opportunity to report to Jack later. This particular trip had been the latter, but just as Rhys was about to leave the city and head for the shuttle that would take him back to Helios, the trio of bandits had ambushed them, laying surprising devastation to his entire security team and taking Rhys hostage.

Fuckers even ripped off his arm so Hyperion tech couldn’t track them. Fortunately, they were too stupid to take note of the ECHOeye still sitting comfortably in Rhys’s head. He’d sent a distress signal out to Helios shortly before he’d blacked out and woken up in the dingy, damp, and horrid-smelling room that the bandits had taken refuge in.

He hopes it actually sent. He _really_ doesn’t want to die in here. It’s undignified.

Rhys is pulled out of his thoughts when the round, spiky bandits speaks, replying to Disgusting’s earlier remark.

“I dunno, he’s kinda cute. In that ‘Hyperion scumbag’ sorta way.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rhys says through gritted teeth.

“Oi, shut up,” the last of the bandits, this one tall and muscular and with a cybernetic leg from the knee down, slaps Rhys upside the head, making him taste blood in his mouth.

Mulishly, Rhys spits it out onto the floor.

Abruptly, the door to the room opens, causing everyone’s head to snap up to look. To Rhys’s disappointment, it’s not a rescuer ( _Jack,_ his foolish mind had hoped), but he is somewhat familiar to the personal assistant.

The man wears the standard Hyperion military uniform, though it’s covered in dents and gore. He snickers at Rhys’s pissed-off expression.

Great. A mole? Rhys groans internally. Perfect little cherry on top of this shit sundae. Jack’s gonna be so pissed.

“Where the hell have you been?” asks Spiky.

The Hyperion soldier – _Carver,_ his name-plate reads, and Rhys commits it to fucking memory – rolls his eyes.

“Making sure they weren’t any survivors, dumbass. Wouldn’t do to be followed before Jack gets our little message.”

He walks over and stands in front of Rhys, who’s putting as much venom as he can into his glare.

“You sure this is even gonna work?” complains CyberKnee (Rhys thinks he may have a concussion. His insulting nicknames are usually much better than this. Jack would be making fun of him right now, he’s sure). “Maybe our intel was off.”

“No way,” Carver shakes his head. “We got video evidence and everything. You saw them go at it, same as me.”

Disgusting makes a face. Or, Rhys thinks he does. It’s hard to tell with the mask. Also, the stench of blood rolling off the bandit is starting to make him dizzy.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. If I never see this dude’s skinny white ass again, it’ll be too soon.”

Rhys manages to work up an affronted expression. “Ex _cuse_ me? What the hell are you – AGH!”

CyberKnee hits him again, this time striking him across the face with the back of his hand.

“I told you to shut up!” he barks.

“Lighten up, dude, we can’t rough him up too bad. Jack won’t show up if he’s dead.”

That makes Rhys pause. _What?_

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters CyberKnee. “Figures Handsome Jack’s lover would be a mouthy little shit.”

“Love - !” Rhys chokes, on a combination of spit and blood. “You think I’m Jack’s _what?”_

“Don’t play stupid,” says Carver. “We know about you and Jack. We have videos to prove it.”

“The sex tape was kinda hot,” admits Spiky. His three compatriots turn to stare incredulously at him. He only shrugs. “What? I can appreciate sexy when I see it.”

“What,” Rhys coughs around the copper in his mouth, “ _what sex tape?”_

Rolling his eyes again, Carver stalks forward and brings up his comm, shoving the screen in Rhys’s face. On the monitor is an image intimately familiar to Rhys. He blanches as he watches two figures, _him and freaking Jack,_ have sex in Jack’s office in Opportunity.

He remembers that day. The last time he’d come down to Pandora, that time accompanying Jack, was to view the completion of the Hyperion office buildings. Jack wanted to christen his new desk; Rhys was never one to deny him.

Rhys tears his eyes away from the image of himself getting pounded six ways to Sunday on said desk, instead directing his flustered glare at Carver, who seems amused by his reaction. The traitor turns off the video and pockets the comm again.

“How the hell did you get that footage?” he growls. The security in Opportunity should’ve been top-notch, second only to Helios itself. _Especially_ in Jack’s office.

“I have my ways,” says Carver mysteriously. Which probably means he either bribed someone into giving him the footage, or he found a way to hack the security cameras himself. Both would be major headaches for Rhys – if he ever got out of this fucking room, that is.

Disgusting speaks next. “I hope this was worth it, man. Jack better show up, like you promised. I’m itching to put a bullet in his stupid head.”

Rhys feels himself freeze up. _Jack?_ Coming _here?_ For _him?_

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks, voice hysterical.

CyberKnee scoffs. “What, you think he won’t?”

“Of course he _won’t!”_ Rhys snaps. “Why in the hell do you think Handsome Jack’s gonna show up in the middle of _nowhere_ for his personal assistant? The man went through 14 just last year! I’m replaceable as hell!”

The bandits share looks with each other, varying degrees of confusion showing on their faces (well, except for Disgusting). It’s Spiky to answers him, speaking tentatively.

“Uh… Because you’re Handsome Jack’s boyfriend? Duh?”

Rhys stares at him.

_“What.”_

“Look, don’t play dumb with us,” Carver snaps. “It’s common knowledge on Hyperion that _you’ve_ lasted longer than any other assistant Jack’s ever had.”

“Because I’m good at my _job,”_ groans Rhys.

“Oh, what, and your job includes letting the boss man fuck you?” Disgusting sneers.

Rhys wants to bang his head against a wall or something. “Occasionally, yes! But that’s it! We just have _sex,_ and then we go right back to me organizing his schedule and him running his goddamn company!”

Three of the bandits look perplexed – except Carver, who scowls at Rhys and promptly punches him in the stomach. Rhys doubles over, coughing miserably, only to have the comm shoved in his face again. He grimaces, expecting to see more raunchy sex between him and Jack, but the scene presented to him is actually quite benign.

It’s him and Jack, still, but they’re at one of the restaurants on Opportunity, that Jack insisted they give a try before they open. They’re just sitting at a table, completely alone, just… talking and eating. Rhys can’t remember what they discussed that day, but he can tell from the look on his face that Jack’s regaling him with one of his many tales of ‘badass heroism’.

He can tell, because the him on screen has the dopiest love-struck smile on his face.

The soldier angrily jabs at the screen, startling Rhys as the scene changes yet again. This time, to his shock and anger, the video is on Helios, at the Hub of Heroism. He can see him and Jack again, this time walking across the busy plaza, while everyone else gives them a wide berth. People usually stop and stare when Jack walks by, and Rhys had long since adjusted, not even noticing them anymore. The him in the video keeps his head down, eyes focused on some kind of report.

Then the video-Jack glances up at someone staring at them and scowls, reaching his hand up. Probably to grab his gun, thinks Rhys, though he doesn’t remember Jack shooting anyone in the Hub recently –

Oh?

Video-Jack’s hand settles on the small of video-Rhys’s back, his eyes still fixed murderously on whoever’d been staring. Video-Rhys doesn’t even react.

 _I didn’t even notice,_ thinks Rhys, lightheaded.

“You wanna try telling me that lie again, _Rhysie?”_ asks Carver, jolting Rhys out of his daze. The use of that name, _Jack’s favorite nickname for him, how dare he,_ is enough to make Rhys forget about that last confusing video.

“I’m not _lying,”_ he says adamantly. “I don’t – those are just _things_ Jack does, okay?”

“Dinner dates and possessive touching are just _‘things he does’,”_ snorts Spiky. “C’mon, kid. Handsome Jack’s an asshole, sure, but I know the look of a man in love when I see it.”

“A man in – do you idiots hear yourselves?!”

“Didn’t he vent an entire team of scientists because they put you in danger by testing an explosive device that nearly blew you up?” That was CyberKnee who asked, and Rhys’s mind is _racing._ How much fucking information did Carver possess? And why was all of it about him and Jack’s nonexistent relationship?

“He vented that team because _he_ was almost caught in the explosion, idiot,” seethes Rhys. “Just because I happened to be there doesn’t mean he did it for _me_.”

“Then…” flounders Carver, obviously frustrated by Rhys’s continued denials, “how about when you were meeting with those delegates from Maliwan, huh? The ones who tried to poison you?”

Rhys furrows his brow, utterly bewildered. That _was_ an incident that occurred, but the most he got out of it was a sore stomach and a few days of sick leave. Fucking Maliwan, not even willing to shell out the good poison, or so Jack had groused to him later as Rhys was laid up in his hospital bed.

“They were trying to poison _Jack!_ They messed up and got me instead, he got pissed anyway and killed them, business as usual! What the _fuck_ are you guys on about?!”

Finally, CyberKnee looks to Carver, distressed. “Dude. I don’t think he’s lying.”

“No!” Carver shouts in reply, hitting Rhys again, for good measure. “My intel isn’t wrong! He’ll show up, and then we’ll kill him! _He’s_ the man Handsome Jack loves!” He points accusingly at Rhys.

A sharp, pained laugh rips its way out of Rhys’s throat without his permission. It hurts, but this whole thing is just so stupid that he can’t help it.

“I’m _not.”_

Carver bares his teeth. “You’re lying.”

Spiky shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “I dunno, man, he seems pretty sincere…”

“I spent _months_ gathering intel on those two!” Carver shouts. “I know what I saw! He loves Handsome Jack!”

“Well, yeah,” Rhys rolls his eyes. “I never denied _that.”_

They all turn to look at him, eyes wide.

“So, you - ? Admit it, then?” asks CyberKnee, uncertainty coloring his tone.

“I’m only admitting to being in love with him,” shrugs Rhys, because why the hell not. Every minute longer he spends in this dinky old room convinces him that he’s probably not going to make it out alive. Might as well say the thing that’s been plaguing his mind for months now. “But whoever said he loved me back?”

Spiky recoils, as if struck by Rhys’s words. “Aw, fuck.”

“No,” murmurs Carver. Then, louder, “No! Every time you’re in danger, Handsome Jack comes to save you! He’d do anything to keep you safe!”

“Oh, you’re such a moron!” Rhys shouts back, struggling against his bonds. “He likes to be a hero! That’s all! He’s _Handsome goddamn Jack,_ he doesn’t go around falling in love with people! Certainly not personal assistants who are more trouble than they’re worth! And if you think he’s anything that small, or that sentimental, then you have no idea who the _fuck_ you’re dealing with! _He’s. Not. Coming!_ ”

The three bandits are struck still with shock. Only Carver seems further incensed by Rhys’s words.

“He’s probably already on his way,” he growls. “All we need to do it wait.” He gestures to Disgusting, who nods, and trudges his way outside, possibly to stand guard.

“Then you’re gonna be waiting a long time,” Rhys shouts after the bandit. “He’s not here! God knows what he’s doing now, but I guarantee you he’s not going to waste his time rescuing a lovesick idiot like me!”

Carver kicks him, cutting him off and knocking him onto his back. A heavy, steel-toed boot is pressed onto his chest, making Rhys struggle to breath.

“You know,” Carver starts, low and murderous, “I think I’ll kill you when Jack does show up. Just to see the look on his face when he realizes he failed.”

Rhys squirms uselessly under him. His vision is starting to blur – he’d hit his head on the ground when that asshole kicked him over.

“Even if,” he croaks, voice strained, “Jack does show up… there’s no way in hell a bunch of useless, _dumbass_ bastards like you are gonna take him down. He’s a fucking supernova. What the hell makes you think you could _ever_ take him on?”

Carver just sneers down at him. “God, you’re pathe –!”

Carver is interrupted by the door being blown off its hinges, and the ground heaves in response. Rhys feels heat and pressure, and the force of the explosion rolls him back a few feet, until his back hits a wall.

Vision blurring, he looks at the doorway, spotting a dark figure backlit by the Pandoran sunlight. He hears gunshots, and swearing, and suddenly arms wrapped around his battered frame, a frantic voice somewhere above his head.

Rhys starts drifting into the black void of unconsciousness. A familiar mask stares back at him, mouth moving a mile a minute. Before he succumbs, Rhys can only summon one thought.

_Son of a bitch. I was wrong._

 

* * *

 

When Rhys awakes, it’s to the somewhat familiar sight of a hospital room, on Helios.

His first thought is a relieving wave of _oh thank fuck I'm alive_ crashing into him. His second thought is _ow,_ when he blinks too hard and his head feels like it’s pounding.

His third thought is _Jack?_

Because there he is, at the side of Rhys’s bed, like he had been those months ago when Maliwan made their pathetic attempt on his life. The CEO is angrily barking orders into his comm as he sits, which strikes Rhys as odd, because Jack is the kind of guy who paces when he’s too pent-up with energy. But here he remains, butt glued stubbornly to the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Rhys.

It’s then that Rhys realizes his flesh hand has something laying on top of it. Jack’s own hand.

Heat rises to Rhys’s cheeks, and strangled noise escapes his lips.

Jack immediately halts, gaze swiveling to his bruised personal assistant. Something in his expression shifts, and he shouts one last command into his comm before shutting it off, tossing it somewhere onto the bed as he focuses all his attention on Rhys.

“Hey, Rhysie,” he greets, voice not bothering to be soft when Rhys heard him yelling just seconds ago. “You just wake up?”

Wordlessly, and still aware of Jack’s hand, a heavy weight on his own, he nods.

“How are you feeling, cupcake?”

Rhys’s voice is scratchy rasp. “Like shit.”

Jack gives him a half-smile at that. “You look like it, too. No offense.”

Rhys sighs. He tries to run his cybernetic hand through his hair, to smooth it out of his face, but then he remembers, and he groans.

“They ruined my arm,” he pouts. “I really liked that one…”

“We’ll get you a new one,” promises Jack. “One that has a built-in taser so you don’t ever get your ass kidnapped again.”

Rhys wants to protest – he doesn’t think him being armed (hah) would’ve done much to deter his kidnappers – but he holds his tongue. A built-in taser sounds kinda awesome, anyway.

“How’d you find me?” he asks instead.

Jack shrugs. “You activated your ECHOeye before you blacked out. We managed to get a fix on your location through that.”

“Oh. Are the bandits dead?”

“All three of ‘em.”

“And Carver?”

At his name, Jack grins, shark-like and cruel. Rhys can already guess what that means.

“Oh, no, Carver is still alive. I’m not done beating the shit outta him, not for a long while. I _did_ put a bullet in both his kneecaps for you, though.”

Rhys musters up the brightest smile he can, under the circumstances. “Thanks, Jack. I, um, wasn’t sure you’d come.”

The CEO snorts. “No, you seemed pretty damn convinced that I _wouldn’t.”_

Rhys freezes. “What?”

Jack turns his gaze towards Rhys’s flesh hand, his thumb stroking over its back, warm and calloused. “What did you say, exactly? That I wouldn’t waste my time rescuing a lovesick idiot like you?”

Oh, god. Mortification seeps into Rhys’s bones, and he’d like nothing more than to just actually die, right there. Unfortunately, his heart monitor continues its steady beeping, even if it’s sped up a bit in light of Jack’s revelation.

“You…” Rhys’s voice is small, now. “You heard that?”

“Rhysie,” Jack says gently. Or as gentle as Handsome Jack can be, which is a surprising amount. “You activated your ECHOeye. As a video recording. I heard the entire damn thing.”

Rhys’s mouth falls open. Oh, _god._

“At first, I thought you were just saying shit to keep them talking. But you…” Jack’s eyebrows knit together in frustration. “You actually believe everything you said.” Then those bi-colored eyes are on Rhys’s face again, and they’re filled with… disappointment? “You really don’t think I love you.”

Rhys’s breath catches in his throat. “Wh… What?”

“I mean,” Jack suddenly stands, wrenching his hand from Rhys’s, making the assistant yearn for its warmth back, “I thought I was being pretty damn obvious! But you seriously thought I did dinner dates and sex and all that touching with just _anyone?_ For fuck’s sake, Rhys, when have you _ever_ seen me do that shit with anyone else?!”

He’s pacing now.

Rhys stares at him, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing. “I… But, you… _What?”_

“Do you have any idea how _frustrating_ it was to hear you say all that shit when I’ve been trying to date you for _months_?!” Jack screams. “And then _you,_ because you’re an _asshole,_ have to go and drop the fucking bomb that _you’re_ in love with _me,_ and I feel like an idiot because I sure as hell never caught on to _that!”_

Rhys blinks at him. “Wh- How did _you_ not know?! You’ve been teasing me about my fanboy crush since day one!”

Jack spins around on his heel to point and glare at the bed-ridden man. “Oh no, you’re not turning this around on me! I thought you just had some kinda hero worship, like everyone does! I didn’t think you were actually in-freaking-love with me!”

“Are you serious?!”

“ _YES!”_

They stare at each other; Jack’s breathing hard, and Rhys isn’t sure he’s breathing at all. Finally, after a few moments pass in silence, the CEO’s shoulders deflate, and he slumps back over to the bed, draping himself over Rhys’s body – he’s careful to avoid touching the bruised areas, but even so, his arms are caging Rhys against himself.

This close, Rhys can still smell a bit of Pandora and smoke on Jack. That, and the metallic scent of blood.

“I’m going to say this right now, right to your face, so you can’t ever claim to be an ignorant jackass again,” mutters Jack, his breath ghosting over Rhys’s face.

Rhys stares up at him, waiting. Except, he knows exactly what Jack is going to say. How could he not, at this point?

“I love you, you asshole.”

The words, as colorful as the insult they’re accompanied with, are spoken softly. Jack’s gaze holds Rhys’s, both pairs of mismatched eyes piercing into the other, searching for something.

Slowly, Rhys raises his flesh hand and brushes a stray brunet curl from Jack’s face. He swallows the lump in his throat and sends his boss a small, dopey smile.

“I love you, too. Asshole.”

Jack snorts, leaning down the rest of the way to kiss Rhys’s lips. Apparently, he was cut there or something, because it stings like a _bitch_ , but Rhys pushes past the pain and kisses Jack back with fervor.

When they finally part, Jack sinks back onto the chair and reclaims Rhys’s hand with his own. There’s a peaceful sort of quiet between them now; something that doesn’t happen often. Rhys finds himself being lulled back to sleep by it, calmer than he’s ever felt in his life.

Then, Jack speaks up.

“So. I’m a supernova, huh?”

Rhys groans. “Can you please not?”

“What? I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said about me. Didn’t know you were so poetic, Rhysie.”

“Ugh. I take it back. I hate you.”

Jack sounds unbearably smug when he replies.

“No, you don’t.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> (rhys gets to help torture carver later. they shoot him in the dick when he gets all smug and says 'i told you so')


End file.
